


abandon

by profdanglais



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: And Lots of It, Canon Compliant, F/M, Neverland (Once Upon a Time), Oh wait, Sex Pollen, Smut, Sort Of, did I mention the sex pollen?, it's not that kind of sex pollen, there is no dub-con here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-12-16 12:31:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21036287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/profdanglais/pseuds/profdanglais
Summary: Neverland sex-pollen smut. That's the extent of it.





	abandon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kmomof4](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kmomof4/gifts).

> Happy birthday to @kmomof4, fandom cheerleader and all around lovely human. I tried to fill this with all your favourite things. I hope you like it!

“What’s that?” Emma pointed to the patch of tall, dark red flowers just to their left. Hook frowned. 

“I don’t know,” he said, the first time he’d ever not had an answer for one of her what-the-actual-fuck-is-the-deal-with-this-nightmare-place questions. 

“You don’t _know_?” He shrugged. “_You_ don’t know. How many years did you spend here again?”

Hook rolled his eyes. “I’ve told you before that much has changed in Neverland since I left. I never encountered these flowers during my time here. I suggest we steer well clear of them.” 

“Agreed,” said Emma, and turned back to the path… to find more of the flowers waiting for her. “What the—” 

“That bloody demon,” snarled Hook. “He’s playing with us.” 

“What? Why?”

“Who knows why Pan does anything? Just making us dance to his piping is reason enough for him.” His expression was dark, frightening in a way it hadn’t been since before he’d turned his ship around and come back for them. 

_He really doesn’t like being manipulated_. The stray thought flashed into Emma’s mind and and clung there as Hook gingerly reached out with his namesake to ease the flowers aside so they could continue along the path.

She took a step forward just as the flower caught in the hook seemed to cough and a shower of dust burst forth, covering both of them in a thin, faintly glittering layer. Her eyes flew to his face to check his reaction, ready to gauge the seriousness of the situation based on how he handled it. He seemed fairly calm and not in any obvious distress, she noted with relief, noticing also the way the dust clung to his eyelashes, how it highlighted his bone structure and the scruff along his jaw, how it sparkled in the hollow of his throat and the hair on his chest. 

“God, you’re hot,” she said. 

“Aye, the weather is oppressive here, but that is the least of our concerns—” 

“No.” She felt the oddest desire to laugh. “No, it’s slang, it means… handsome.” She stumbled a bit over the word. “Attractive. Like I want to…” She reached up and brushed her fingertips over his chest, exposed by the open buttons of his shirt. His skin was warm, the hair softer than she’d expected. He caught his breath as she flattened her palm against him and she could feel his heart begin to pound. “I don’t know why I’m doing this,” she whispered. 

“I do.” His voice was deeper than usual, rougher, and angry. “This is Pan’s game. The pollen from the flower must be making you do things you don’t want.” 

“Oh, she wants,” said a taunting voice. They turned to see Pan lounging against a tree, arms crossed over his chest. Emma felt Hook tense, felt his hand come up to curl protectively around her waist. “That’s the point. The pollen doesn’t force you to do anything, it merely amplifies your existing desires. And dulls your inhibitions. Like good rum does. You should be familiar with that, Captain.” 

Hook growled. “How long does it last?” 

“Well you both got a good faceful of it so I’d say three, four hours at least. Have fun.” And with that, he was gone. 

“Curse that wretched bloody child,” snarled Hook as his arm snaked around Emma’s waist, his hand fisting in her hair. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. 

“Why?” She began to press kisses along his jaw, loving the way he shivered at her touch. His head dropped to nestle against her neck and he breathed deeply. 

“Because I shouldn’t— I should let you go.” 

“Do you want to let me go?” she murmured, pulling back to look at him. His eyes were dark and their expression made her thighs clench. 

“No,” he whispered. “I don’t.” His eyes fell closed on a soft exhale then as she watched his features shifted and hardened into a leer. When his eyes opened again he was the man who’d left her in Rumplestiltskin’s cell. “Shall I tell you what I _want_, Swan?” he asked, his voice low and harsh. “I _want_ to rip every scrap of clothing from your body with my hook.” She caught her breath as he snagged the front of her shirt with the appendage in question, then let it trail up her chest to her neck, the point dragging lightly across her skin. “I want to mark you with it, and with my teeth,” he continued, “Marks on your soft skin that will last for days, and every time you see them you’ll think of me and remember what I did to you. I _want_ to push you up against a tree and wrap your legs around my shoulders and I want to bury my face in your wet cunt—” Emma gasped and he smirked, his tongue tracing a glistening path along his lower lip, “—and it will be wet, won’t it darling,” he purred, his voice dropping still lower as he leaned in close to her ear. “Positively _dripping _with how much you want me. I want to lick you, Emma, to tease you with my tongue and my teeth, work you up and hold you just on the edge until you _beg_ me to let you finish, and then I want to thrust my cock up deep inside you and fuck you until you can’t take any more. I want to _wreck_ you, Emma Swan.” 

“You’re trying to shock me,” she said unsteadily, struggling to think over her pounding heart. “Trying to offend me so I’ll leave. But everything you said—” She hesitated, afraid of what this confession would reveal to him but so desperately turned on she was prepared to let him see it. She drew a shuddering breath and went for broke. “That’s what I want too, Hook. I’ve— I’ve had fantasies of you fucking me for a while now.” 

The leer melted away, leaving him looking as wrecked as she felt and he groaned, shaking his head in denial even as he pulled her closer, his lips tracing a damp trail up her neck. “No,” he rasped, his breath hot against her skin. “It’s not what you want, it’s just the pollen making you—” 

He broke off as Emma snapped open the clasps on his vest and pulled his shirt from his trousers, dragging her fingernails across his stomach as soon as it was bared. His skin was smooth and hot and he actually whimpered when she touched it, his muscles leaping beneath her hand and making her dizzy with lust. “You heard Pan, the pollen doesn’t force us to do anything,” she breathed, leaning in and sucking hard on his collarbone. He wasn’t the only one who could leave marks. “It just takes away our reasons not to.” 

“They’re good reasons, though,” he muttered into her hair as his own hand quested beneath her shirt to close over her breast. His thumb caressed her nipple and his hooked arm was tight around her hips. “I couldn’t bear it if you had regrets… after.” 

“I won’t.” 

“How could you not?” His voice was raw now, and Emma had the fleeting thought that he might be as exposed as she. 

“Hook, please.” She tried to keep the neediness from her own voice. Without success. “I promise I won’t blame you for this, none of it is anyone’s fault but Pan’s, I just— please.” She met his gaze imploringly. “I need you to touch me.” 

He stared at her for a long moment, his eyes boring into her, dark and desperate. Finally, he nodded. “Come with me.” 

He took her hand and pulled her back in the direction of the Dark Hollow, turning just before they reached it and heading down a small hill towards a thick copse of trees. He didn’t hesitate, pushing through the dense foliage and into a clearing where a small pond lay rippling gently in the breeze. 

_A breeze_. Emma had almost forgotten what they felt like. She sighed and lifted her hair off her neck to let the cool air caress her sweaty skin. Hook watched her with hooded eyes, his hand clenching and unclenching into a fist. 

“Emma,” he said harshly. “Are you sure about this? If you choose to walk away I won’t follow you.” 

His shirt and vest were hanging open, and she could see the rising and falling of his chest as he fought to keep his breathing steady. She could see the effort his restraint was costing him, the sweat trickling down his temple despite the breeze, his eyes so dilated the blue was barely visible. Their kiss the day before had rocked her more than she cared to admit, but she wasn’t sure she was _ready_ for this, ready to deal with her attraction to him or what it might mean. 

And he was giving her an out. He wasn’t lying when he said he wouldn’t follow her but Emma was ashamed to admit to herself that she almost wished he would. If he tried to force her she could push him away, but this— this being the gentleman he always claimed he was… _this_ just made her want him more. 

“I want to fuck you,” she admitted, “I have since the beanstalk. I don’t like this,” she wiped some pollen off her face, “or this stupid game of Pan’s any more than you do, but I want to know what it feels like to be with you.” With sure steps she closed the distance between them, pushed his coat, shirt, and vest off his shoulders in one go then trailed her hands down his chest, letting them come to rest just above the laces of his trousers. He was rock hard beneath those laces, and his breath in her ear was ragged. “Show me what you’ve got, pirate.”

With a growl he pounced, sweeping her up into his arms, his mouth coming down hard on hers. They kissed frantically, all tongues and teeth and clawing hands, and Emma was so caught up in pleasure that she didn’t notice they had moved until she felt rough bark against her back. 

“I wasn’t lying when I said I wanted you against a tree,” he murmured into her mouth. “Or that I’m bloody desperate to taste you. But what do _you_ want, Swan? We have hours to fill, if the demon can be believed.” 

“I—” Emma tried to make herself think. “I—”

“Tell me, love. What shall I do to you?” 

Her head was spinning and her clit _ached, _and only one thing came to mind. “Just fuck me.” She ground her hips into his. “I just want your cock inside me. We’ll figure out the rest later.” 

“Always so practical, Swan,” he said, sounding almost amused as his hand and hook tore at his trouser laces. “I bloody love that about you.” 

Something fluttered in Emma at those words but she had no time to examine it, she barely had time to kick off her jeans before he was on her again, hoisting her up to wrap her legs around his waist. She threw her arms around his shoulders, gouging his skin with her nails as he buried his hook in the tree just above her head and slid inside her, groaning at the ease of the penetration. 

“I knew you’d be dripping,” he growled in her ear, thrusting into her with deep, hard strokes. “Gods, you feel so bloody good. Better even than I imagined.” 

He felt good too, thick and hard inside her, bigger than she’d imagined and oh yes, she had also imagined it. “You— oh _fuck, yes,_ right there!— You imagined— this?” 

“Darling, I have had the— _filthiest_ fantasies— about you,” he breathed between thrusts. “Shall I tell you— about them? Many involve handcuffs— chains— you spread out beneath me— begging me to let you come— me beneath you— with the same— plea…” 

The tension was coiling tight in Emma now as his velvet voice roughened by lust wove intoxicating images in her mind. 

“Both— ah, _fuck_— both sides, then?” 

“I am a very— broad-minded man, love. Now come for me, darling — I know you’re close— _come_, Emma.” 

Oh, she loved it when he said her name, even more now with his voice so completely wrecked by lust. She clenched around him, thrilling in the way he gasped, how his fingers dug into her thigh. He thrust harder, ground his pelvis against her clit and she came, harder than she could even have imagined possible. 

She thought she may have screamed but she couldn’t be sure. The world was whirling around her, Hook was still moving inside her, still whispering filthy things in her ear —how good she felt squeezing his cock, how he was going to come deep inside her. Then he did, groaning her name into her hair, his cock pulsing as he pressed it into her one final time. 

Emma drifted down slowly from her high, still held against the tree by Hook’s body, still touching him because the influence of the pollen was strong as ever and she _wanted_ to. It was oddly freeing, this permission to do the things she had been dreaming about for far too long, she thought as she combed her fingers through his hair. 

He seemed to feel the same way, for a moment later he eased himself out of her, set her gently on her feet then latched his mouth onto hers like he couldn’t go a second longer without kissing her. He ravished her mouth with a hard, wet kiss then dragged his lips down her neck and along her collarbone, leaving a damp trail with his tongue that caught the chill of the breeze and made her shiver. He couldn’t seem to keep his mouth off her skin, not even looking as he eased the tip of his hook beneath the straps of her shirt and bra and tugged them down to expose her breast. He trailed soft, damp kisses along the curve of it then licked her nipple roughly, and Emma felt lust begin to surge in her again. 

Hook kissed his way down her torso, licking and nipping and sucking over her navel and down to her mound, nuzzling his nose into her curls. She felt the cool curve of his hook on the back of her thigh, gently easing her leg up over his shoulder, spreading her open for him. 

“You smell bloody amazing,” he said, and the vibrations of his voice made her writhe. “Is this okay, love?” 

“Yes!” She pressed herself against his face, hating the desperate eagerness in her voice but damn it, she _really_ wanted to know if he could do more with his tongue than just talk. 

He was as eager as she, growling in approval as he buried his face in her just as he’d promised, licking through her sensitive flesh in a slow, savouring caress that ended with the tip of his tongue pressed hard against her clit. Her hips bucked of their own volition and she moaned loudly. 

“You like that?” he breathed against her. 

“_Yes,_” she gasped, barely able to force out the word. “More.” 

“As you wish.” 

The strokes of his tongue grew rougher, licking deep through her folds and up inside her, pressing hard circles against her clit that brought her just to the edge of bliss and held her there as she made helpless pleading noises and clutched at his hair. His hook arm was wrapped around her leg, the sharp tip of it digging into her thigh as his fingers clutched at her ass so tightly they would surely leave bruises. He was as frantic as she, Emma realised somewhere deep in her consciousness. He _loved_ this. 

The thought of that —of Captain Hook on his knees in front of her, barely hanging on as he pleasured her with that smartass mouth of his— sent her careening over the edge. She definitely screamed this time, as waves of pleasure rolled through her and Hook sucked her clit between his teeth to draw them out.

When the last one had faded away he stood, catching her as she swayed on wobbly legs and pinning her to the tree to kiss her, hard and frantic, his tongue deep in her mouth so she could taste herself. She hummed in enjoyment but had no energy left to do much more than let him take what he wanted. 

He broke the kiss just long enough to scoop her up in his arms and then his mouth was on her again, kissing her even as he carried her to the edge of the pond and laid her down a patch of soft, sandy ground. Stretching out beside her, he pulled off the tank top and bra that she was somehow still wearing. His touch was gentle and his movements careful but his cock was hard against her hip and his hand trembled as he eased her legs apart and sank it into her again. She angled her hips to take him in deeper and he groaned when he was fully seated, nipping at her neck as he began to move. He thrust slowly this time, long, deep strokes that kept her body humming despite how sated she felt and she sighed, relaxing into the sand and just enjoying the slick drag of him inside her until he came. 

He collapsed against her, panting into the crook of her neck She wrapped her arms around him and stroked his back, not stopping even when his breathing calmed and his cock softened within her. Neither of them spoke or moved for several long moments, save for her hand on his back and his curling into her hair. Deep in the depths of Emma’s mind a faint voice was screaming that this was too intimate, too tender, too _much_, but it also felt too damn good and she wasn’t ready to stop. 

—

The last thing Killian wanted to do was move, though he knew eventually he would have to. They couldn’t stay this way forever, however wonderful it felt to have her stretched out beneath him he was probably already crushing her with his weight, and both of them were sticky with sweat and other fluids. Reluctantly, he rolled away and risked a look at her face. She was smiling a soft smile that made his heart ache, and it didn’t fade when she met his eyes. 

“How are you feeling, love?” 

“Good.” She stretched luxuriantly. “Bit sore. Bit sticky.” 

“Aye. Perhaps, ah, you might care for a swim?” 

She glanced dubiously at the pond. “Can we?” 

“We can indeed.” He stood and offered her his hand, pulling her to her feet when she took it and leading her to the edge of the pond. 

“Are you sure this water’s okay?” she asked, looking at it with a suspicious frown between her brows that he wanted to smooth away with his lips. 

So he did. This was the one time he could be free, after all. Free to touch her as he’d wanted to for what felt like a long time. 

She slipped her arm around him when he kissed her forehead, pressing her naked body along the length of his. He nearly groaned, nearly dragged her back down to the sand, but however strong their need to touch each other he didn’t think either of them were ready for another go-round quite yet. 

“It’s perfectly okay,” he said, answering her question. “I used to come here often. There’s something about this place that Pan doesn’t like so he tends to stay away. And the water itself has soothing and healing properties that— well, come in and see for yourself.” He took her hand again and she let him lead her into the water, wading in until they were chest deep. Emma swirled and splashed the water around herself, clearly enjoying the cool relief it offered from the heat of the day and the sweat of their earlier activities. 

“It feels great,” she said smiling the widest smile he’d yet seen on her face, simple and happy. 

Killian felt his heart tumble in his chest at that smile, and reminded himself forcibly that this was merely an interlude. It was just the effects of the pollen that made her let him in like this, once they wore off her walls would be up again higher and stronger than ever. He still intended to break them down but certainly didn’t relish increased difficulty in this already challenging task. If only he’d been able to resist the pollen’s effects— but he was barely able to keep his hands off her when she wasn’t wrapped around him begging for his cock. He hadn’t stood a chance. 

They went deeper into the pond and Killian let go of Emma’s hand so he could splash some water on his face and neck. She did the same. “How deep is the water?” she asked. 

“Deep enough to swim properly, if you’d like,” he replied, and demonstrated by diving under the surface, swimming a few strokes to his left before coming up again. When he opened his eyes he couldn’t see her, but she appeared at his side a moment later, laughing as water streamed down her face and hair. She caught his shoulders and pressed close to him. “I haven’t been swimming in forever,” she said. “I did a bit in Tallahassee, but—” she broke off and a cloud passed over her face. 

“But what?” 

She shook her head. “It’s nothing.” 

“You can tell me, Emma,” he pressed. “Anything.” 

_Please,_ he begged in his mind. _Please don’t shut me out. Not now. Later perhaps but not—_

“Tallahassee was where Neal and I were going to go,” she said in a small, quiet voice. Her fingers tightened on his shoulders and he wrapped his arms around her, careful not to nick her with his hook. It occurred to him that he hadn’t been swimming with a woman since Milah, and he’d had both hands then. Emma allowed him to hug her though, let her own arms slide around his neck. “It was supposed to be like our happy ending, or something.” She tried to sound dismissive, but Killian heard the decade-old pain, still in her voice. “After he left me—” Killian’s arms tightened on a flash of anger; he hadn’t known Bae had _left_ her, what was the lad thinking?— “I went there myself. To wait for him. I thought— I thought he’d— but he didn’t, and so I moved again.” 

He brushed her wet hair back from where it was sticking to her cheek, tucked it behind her ear and kissed her. She responded warmly, opening her mouth for him but he kept the kiss soft, just a gentle brush of lips and tongues. “I’m sorry, love,” he whispered. 

She tried to shrug. “It’s nothin—” 

“It’s not nothing if it hurt you,” he interrupted. “Which it clearly did.” 

She stared at him. “How do you do that?” 

“Do what, love?” 

“How do you always understand me?” 

He smiled, soft and almost shy. “As I told you on the beanstalk, Swan, you’re an open book.” 

“Mmm,” she murmured as her fingertips ruffled the hair at his nape. “And I suppose I said myself that we understand each other.” 

“Aye, so you did.” He let his hand slide down her back and over her ass, pressing her closer against him. 

She hummed and tightened her hold on his shoulders, letting her forehead rest against his —just for a heartbeat— before she leaned back again to look at him, her expression troubled. “Hook, this doesn’t— this can’t—” 

“Shh, darling I know,” he soothed. “We don’t have to speak of it. Not now, anyway. Right now I—” 

“Now you what?” 

“I want to take advantage of it,” he confessed. “This… _amnesty_, if you will. When the pollen’s effects have worn off we can go back to how things were, but now—” 

She cut him off with her lips on his. “Yeah,” she said softly. “Me too. Amnesty.” 

She kissed him again and this time he let it deepen, let it grow hot and aching until she was clinging to him as the water swirled around them and he was hard again, pressing against her stomach. He lifted her with his hook arm and swam them both to the side of the pond where he knew there was a large, smooth rock tilted at just the right angle to support a resting body. He had lain on it himself on many an occasion, soothed by the peace of this place. He lifted Emma onto it then stretched out beside her, smiling when she immediately snuggled up against him, as though she couldn’t get enough of the feel of his skin against hers. 

He understood the impulse. 

He wrapped his hook arm around her shoulders so she could rest her head on it then let his hand explore her body, tracing feather-light touches over her hip and the dip of her waist, up to her breast to tease her nipple, down her belly to the soft curls between her legs, slipping into her folds as she bit her lip and moaned. 

“How do you like to be touched, Emma?” he asked as his fingers stroked her, gathering her moisture and rubbing it over her most tender spot. 

She gave a strained laugh. “I’m surprised you have to ask,” she said breathily. “Everything you do is —fuck— it’s just right.” 

He couldn’t suppress a surge of pride at that, but while he’d always made it a point of principle not to leave a woman unsatisfied, with Emma he wanted more. “I’m glad to hear that, love, but you could give me a little more to go on,” he said. “For example—” he slid a finger into her, keeping his thumb on that sensitive pearl. “How does that feel?” 

“Good. Not as… satisfying as your cock, but I like it.” 

“Could you come from this?” He slid a second finger in. “What about this?” 

“Maybe?” she gasped. “If you touched my nipple too—ooh,” she cried as his mouth closed over her breast, licking her nipple with the flat of his tongue then nipping at it. “I could come from that. But—” 

“But what?” 

“I don’t want to,” she replied, meeting his eyes. “Not until I’ve had my turn.” 

“Your turn?” 

“To taste you.” 

With a quick, lithe twist of her body she flipped him onto his back, straddling his hips to kiss him. He reached for her but she shimmied away, sliding down his body and trailing kisses as she went. Killian sighed at the feel of her mouth on his skin, absently licking his fingers —she really did taste amazing, he thought— then nearly choked on them when he felt her lips closing around his cock. 

“Fuck, Emma—” he groaned. 

“Hmmm?” she hummed and he hissed out a curse as the vibrations of her voice made his balls tighten. He sank his hand into his har and clutched it hard, tugging at it to distract himself from the soft, wet warmth of her mouth as she began to suck on him, from the gentle friction as she moved her head up and down, from her tongue swirling around his tip. 

Pleas and curses fell heedlessly from his lips as gradually she eased him deeper and deeper into her mouth, until he was hitting the back of her throat and his scalp was aching from his fist pulling on his hair. Until he couldn’t hold off any longer. 

“Emma,” he gasped. “I’m going to—” 

“Mmm,” she hummed again, cupping his balls in her hand, squeezing them gently as she sucked his cock hard. Killian interpreted this as consent, and with a strangled noise he barely recognised as his he came in her mouth, his hips bucking helplessly as she swallowed around him and licked the last drops away with the tip of her tongue. 

She slid back up his body and lay against his chest, her chin resting on her hands and a smug little smile on her lips. 

“So you liked that, huh?” 

“You are… a bloody goddess, Swan,” he panted. 

“I just like having the fabled Captain Hook at my mercy,” she teased. 

She had no idea how true that was, he thought. He was beginning to suspect that there was nothing he wouldn’t do for this woman. 

And so much he longed for from her. 

“Would you do something for me?” he heard himself ask. 

“Didn’t I just—” she broke off when she caught his solemn expression. “What is it?”

“Would you—” he took a deep breath. “Would you call me Killian? Just until…” 

He could see in her eyes she understood everything he meant by the question. 

“Killian,” she said softly. “It’s a good name.” 

He pulled her up into his arms and kissed her, deep and soft and far too tenderly, but between the pollen and their bare bodies pressed together and the fact that she’d just sucked him to oblivion _and_ the fact that he was falling in love with her —may have already fallen, if he was honest— he couldn’t hold the tenderness back. Her arms curling tight around him, her lips and tongue pressing and sliding softly against his were the best things he’d felt in three hundred years and far too soon they would be gone. The pollen’s effects were already fading, before long he and Emma would be back to how they had always been, if not worse. She would pull away from him, retreat back behind walls rebuilt high and strong, and Killian wasn’t sure his battered heart could take it. Now that he’d had Emma soft and open in his arms he wasn’t sure he could live without at least a scrap of hope that he might have her like that again. 

Emma began to make that humming noise at the back of her throat that he now recognised as a sound of pure pleasure, her arms tightening around him, her hand sinking into his hair and combing the drying strands with her fingers. Killian’s heart clenched, his chest tightening with the anguish of impending loss. He rolled them over so she was on her back on the warm stone and gazed down at her, fixing the image in his mind. Water from the pond lapped against their feet as he began to trail soft kisses down her neck, savouring her sighs and the taste of her skin. He found a sensitive spot just at the curve where her neck met her shoulder and he nuzzled it, sucking and nipping until she began to whimper. His fingers explored every inch of her body, stopping at every spot that made her moan and _worshipping_ it. He’d give her something to remember him by, he thought, something to warm her on those cold nights alone behind her walls. Memories that would last far longer than the marks left by his mouth on her skin.

Memories that might weaken her fortifications, just enough to give him hope. 

—

Emma couldn’t think, and she was glad of it. If she could think she’d be thinking about how right this felt, with Ho— with _Killian_ worshipping her —there was no other word for it— with his mouth and his fingers and even his hook, trailing the cool metal along her skin and making her sigh and shiver. And if she thought about how right it all felt she’d be terrified and she’d run. And she would miss all of this. 

They didn’t speak, and she was glad she couldn’t think about how that was because they didn’t need to, because her body was so responsive to his touch and because he was so focused on her, noting every sigh and charting every moan and working her up higher and higher until she was ready to shatter. She felt like he was mapping her, as he must have mapped many undiscovered lands in his time, and she knew that if they were ever to find themselves like this again he would remember everything about her body and how she liked to be touched. 

It was unnerving and exciting and terrifying and wonderful and if she let herself she could get addicted to this, this intense attentiveness and single-minded focus on her pleasure. She wouldn’t, of course. Emma knew herself well enough to know this, to know that once the already-fading effects of the pollen were gone she would push him away as she always did, too afraid to let him in, let him see all the broken parts of her despite how she knew that he was broken too in exactly the same ways. 

But for now she had an excuse to let herself be open, to have him like this, to give herself over to him and let him worship her, and she wished fiercely for enough time to take full advantage of it. 

But the pollen’s effects were fading fast and her fears creeping back in, making her fingers desperate as they gripped his shoulders and pulled him up, kissing him and pressing herself against him. She wanted to feel him inside her once more before this was over, _just once more,_ but she couldn’t find the words to tell him…

“Killian…” she moaned. “Please…” 

He understood, because _of course_ he did, and she saw the flare of emotion in his eyes at the sound of his name in her voice, just before he kissed her again. His hand curled around her thigh, lifting and positioning it over his hip as she reached down to grip his cock, sliding the head of it through her slick folds before slipping it inside her. Their eyes met and held as he pushed in the rest of the way and _god_ it was too intimate and too raw and she couldn’t deal with what she saw in his eyes but also couldn’t look away. She dug her heel into his ass and her fingers into his shoulders as he found their rhythm, and helpless moans fell from both their lips. 

Far, far too soon she felt her orgasm coiling in her belly and she _wished_, just for a moment, that she could hold it off and keep him here with her for longer. But everything just felt too damn good, _he_ felt too good, and she couldn’t stop herself from coming. She cried out his name as she did— something she had never done before in all her life, but she wanted Killian to know that _she_ knew it was him and not Hook that she was with. The sound he made in response was almost agonised, his fingers gouging painfully into her thigh as he drove himself into her with bone-shaking force, coming moments later with a heartfelt groan, deep within her body. Emma lay gasping beneath him, feeling sore and used and she _welcomed_ it, welcomed the gouging fingers and the hard fucking and the bruises both would leave behind. She knew it meant he understood, and that was all that she could give him. 

They lay entwined for as long as they could until the strengthening breeze made goosebumps rise on their skin and they pulled apart, not looking at each other. Killian cleared his throat. “You should make use of the pond to bathe,” he said. “It’s the best place on the island to do so. The water is soothing and cleansing even without soap.” 

She nodded and slipped into the water, welcoming its softness on her over-sensitised skin and though her sweaty hair. Killian followed her, surfacing in the middle of the pond to rub himself down before heading towards the sandy shore where they had left their clothes. Emma followed his lead, rubbing her hands vigorously over her skin and thoroughly rinsing her hair. Killian was right about this water, she thought. She felt cleaner than she had in days, refreshed and invigorated. 

Even if the water easing away the soreness between her legs made her want to cry. 

—

He watched her warily as they dressed, waiting for her to pull away as she had after their first kiss. Waiting for recriminations and blame. 

“I’m not angry,” she said, not looking at him. “And I don’t regret this. But I think— there’s still Henry to save, and I can’t—” She sighed and squeezed water from her hair with a sharp twist of her arm. “Look don’t misunderstand but can we just pretend this never happened?” 

He echoed her sigh, but she sensed his was in relief. “Aye, love. It never happened.” 

She nodded, glanced just briefly at his face then spun away, heading for the edge of the clearing. Before she could reach it he darted forward and snagged her elbow with his hook. She didn’t turn around. 

“I still intend to win your heart, Emma,” he murmured, low in her ear, and just enough of the pollen’s effects remained to make her smile at the earnest hope in his voice. 

“Good.” 

A happy smile creased his face as she curled her fingers around his hook and held it tightly as they left the clearing together. 

—

“You see?” gloated Pan. 

Neal didn’t reply. His fists and jaw were clenched so tightly they hurt, his eyes fixed on the image of the pirate and the saviour as it shimmered and faded from the still surface of the pool at his feet.

He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head, trying to shake the images from his brain. Images of Emma falling apart in Hook’s arms, screaming his name as she came... he doubted he’d ever be able to scrub them from his brain. What was it about that damned pirate that made women ready to throw everything away just to fuck him? Sure, Emma _said_ she wanted to forget about it but then she _held the bastard’s hook_…

“It doesn’t matter,” he said. “It was just those flowers. Emma and I have a history, we have a _kid_. She’ll see. He doesn’t mean anything to her.” 

“Sure. You keep telling yourself that,” smirked Pan. 


End file.
